Echoes Between Us - McGarry, Katie Page 0,87
to you.”
Veronica studies my face. “You don’t need to. Not if you don’t want. I’m fine with how things are between us.”
I let go of her and scrub my face with my hands.
“You’re allowed to have your secrets,” she whispers. “Just like I’m allowed to have mine.”
She’s right, but Knox and I talked and I need to start being honest. With myself, with her, with so many areas of my life, and that’s not easy. I could start with Mom or Sylvia or Miguel, but it’s not them I want to be honest with. It’s her. It’s because she’s one of the few good things I like in my life. The one thing that purely belongs to my choices and not anyone else’s. If I tell her and it messes things up, then it does, but at least I was honest. At least this part of my life won’t be tainted with this need to jump. “I go to AA meetings.”
Veronica twitches beside me as if shocked by a lightning bolt. “You’re an alcoholic?”
“No, I jump from cliffs.”
Veronica blinks, and I release a long breath as I’m aware that made no sense.
“It’s the reason I took you to the quarry. I thought it would be easier to explain there. See, my sponsor said I needed to be honest with you in order to start being honest with myself. I … uh … have this problem. I love jumping. The more danger associated with the jump the more of a rush I feel. I like the adrenaline high, and I’ve chased it for years. I used to hitchhike rides from strangers when I was too young to drive. Sometimes, I broke into the Y at night to jump off the high dive when no one was around. Since I’ve been able to drive, it’s worse. I’ll search online for hours to find the biggest, scariest jump.”
I give her time, give her space to process. In reality, I’m giving her time to leave. When she stays put, I doggedly continue, “I started taking bigger risks because some of the jumps had become boring. I want the high, crave the high, and then I did a jump and it went bad.” I show her the scar on my leg. It’s two inches long, right below my knee and it stung like a bitch when I hit the rocks. “You’d think when I hit those rocks and saw blood gushing from my leg that would have been enough to get me to stop jumping, but it didn’t because I’m stupid.”
It’s strange how her blue eyes are inquisitive, as if what I’m saying isn’t shocking and instead curious. “Is jumping how you broke your arm?”
“Yeah. I went to this place about an hour from here. Another abandoned quarry, but higher than the place I took you. The rocks there are spawns of Satan. It’s so dangerous that even other adrenaline junkies online warn people to stay clear. But I went and it was the best damn jump of my life. The rush I felt as I was in the air…”
Just the memory brings on a rush in my blood, but then I attempt to breathe away the sensation. I don’t want the high anymore. I don’t want to die.
“Even though I knew it was dangerous, I kept returning. The time between visits shortened and shortened until one day, the jump went wrong. I clipped an outcropping—a rock ledge about halfway down—and it changed my trajectory. I hit water, but slammed my arm against a sharp rock under the surface. My bones cracked and my arm became jelly. The pain disoriented me and I ended up losing air and taking in water. I panicked and was sinking and I should be dead right now.”
I choke on the last words and have to clear my throat.
“It’s okay,” Veronica whispers. “You aren’t there now.”
But I am. That’s what she doesn’t understand. When I’m not jumping, I often feel like I’m still stuck under that water. “But I got it together, fought the fear and kicked my way to the surface. I landed far from flat land, and it was the longest, hardest swim of my life. The drive to the Y was worse.”
“The Y?” Veronica exclaims, and I wince with how her tone calls out my stupidity.
“Besides having an arm dangle in a way that wasn’t natural, that’s how I knew I had a problem—I was more interested in lying to get myself out of the situation than